


a solution

by katyfaise



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4793681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyfaise/pseuds/katyfaise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solo seems to consider that for a moment before he moves forward to steal a piece of bell pepper off of the cutting board Gaby is using. She looks down to her vegetables again and begins to cut, sighing. “You said you’ve solved my problem. A problem I seemingly know nothing about…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	a solution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neckwear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neckwear/gifts).



> this can be taken as shippy or general - whatever floats your boats <3  
> also all mistakes are mine, let me know and i'll fix them  
> also also i'm trash and all i want to do is write domestic oneshots  
> also also also come talk to me on tumblr about tmfu i'm illyakurykins

Her role has been considerably lessened as time passes, not that Gaby is completely surprised. She’s still there, still helping in her own way, but it’s behind the scenes these days - field support, as Waverly calls it. Gaby didn’t expect to be kept in the field for too long anyway. She’s not a trained agent, not like Illya or Solo, and although she has her mind set toward the training required it isn’t exactly a speedy process. Besides, there’s something quite nice about returning to her flat without bruises and scrapes and cuts and new dresses ruined after being thrown into arctic water, an incident Solo still refuses to take the blame for. 

But the one problem she finds behind the piles of paperwork and reports that need to be filed, and really who would ever consider her job glamorous - it’s a pain in the ass full of paper cuts being a spy, is that she’s bored. 

So bored. 

The only time she is in the field is when she has to be the getaway driver, a role that even Waverly cannot deny she plays well. But it’s always over far too soon and her clearance isn’t high enough to allow her any further part in their missions. It’s back to her files, back to the mechanics warehouse, back to a microphone and leading her partners through a sewer, or some estate, or through a 26 story office building that houses a safe full of plans for warheads. Back to being the voice on the other side.

It comes as no surprise to her that both Illya and Solo notice immediately that she’s sinking into a boredom induced slump as soon as she spends a whole day in her pajamas two weeks in a row. And for their credit, they do try to help. They both take her out more, when time allows it - Solo prefers expensive restaurants and discos where as Illya tends to visit museums and parks, and she enjoys it all, especially when the three of them enjoy those things together. But it’s the loneliness that hits her when she’s stuck all alone. 

That’s the real culprit.

It’s on a cold January morning, two weeks into a break that none of them had seen coming (though the mission during the new year in Finland had left Illya on bed rest for a week, a feat neither she nor Solo ever saw anyone accomplishing, so perhaps Waverly was taking pity on all of them), that Solo thinks that he has solved her problem, and says as much as he walks into her flat with a key that he got from God only knows where. 

“What problem?” Gaby asks, looking up at him over the kitchen bar. She’s currently chopping vegetables while Illyastands behind her, the sound of the frying pan sizzling. 

“Why would you invite Peril to lunch and not me?” Solo asks, smile on his face traded for a faux offended frown. 

“I _didn’t_ invite him.”

“I invited myself,” Illya says, turning slowly and quite carefully, evidence of his recent chest wound, to give Solo a nod.

Solo seems to consider that for a moment before he moves forward to steal a piece of bell pepper off of the cutting board Gaby is using. She looks down to her vegetables again and begins to cut, sighing. “You said you’ve solved my problem. A problem I seemingly know nothing about…”

“Oh! Of course. Illya and I —“

“Do not bring me into whatever you have done, Cowboy,” Illya pipes up, interrupting Solo’s grand gesture with a deadpanned voice. 

Solo simply drops his head and takes a breath, building himself up once more. “Fine. _I_ have noticed how… lonely you’ve been lately. When you’re stuck by yourself on the less exciting side of things.”

“I’m not lonely,” Gaby quickly retaliates, pushing the knife down with more force than she intended. She can feel both of the men’s eyes on her and she looks up, sour expression on her face. “I’m not! I’m bored. There’s a difference.”

Both Illya and Solo exchange a glance before Solo steps back toward the door he had left cracked. Illya deposits the food from the pan onto a plate and turns, arms crossed as he leans against the counter to witness whatever it is Solo has done.

“Right, so in order to fend off your _boredom_ , I’ve gotten you a gift.” His words stop Gaby instantly and she looks over her shoulder to Illya, who holds up his hands in an innocent manner. 

“No idea,” he says quickly, and when they both look back toward the door Solo has disappeared out into the hallway. When Solo returns, along with a big bag in one hand, there’s a leash wrapped around his arm and a miniature pinscher in his grasp that is desperate to be let down.

“What is that?” Illya asks, turning his nose up at the dog.

“Allow me to introduce Marzipan. Gaby’s new pet.”

Gaby’s eyes grow wide as she stares at the dog in Solo’s arm. It’s small, probably just weaned off of its mother’s milk. She isn’t even sure if her flat allows pets. She isn’t even sure if she wants a pet. But what she is sure of is that she is instantly in love with this little dog that’s fighting so hard against Solo’s grasp. She leaves the knife on the countertop and wipes her hands on a towel before padding around to the open lounge. Tentatively, she reaches out and takes the dog into her arms, holding it against her chest and smiling brightly when it relaxes against her. 

“Look! He already likes you,” Solo comments, stepping around to the couch and unpacking the shopping bag he’d also brought in. “You have quite a way with finicky, violent creatures,” he adds under his breath, and quickly ignores the glare Illya sends in his direction. He unpacks a bag of food and bowls, treats and toys, and even a pale blue sweater with a caricature of a bone on it.

“Why does dog need this?” Illya questions from the end of the couch where he’s wandered closer to be involved. He points at the sweater, a look that can only be described as disgust and confusion on his face.

“Because it’s cute,” Gaby quickly counters, holding the dog out at arms length before bringing him back close to nuzzle him. 

Gaby sits the dog down on the floor finally, allowing it free range as she takes a step toward Solo. 

“This is very sweet of you,” she says, busying herself with going through everything he had purchased, “but I’m not lonely. Honestly! I take care of you two enough to not be lonely.”

He nods curtly, allowing Gaby to defend herself. “Of course you’re not. But companionship doesn’t hurt.”

She looks toward Illya, who has crouched down to the floor to inspect the dog, which seems to be staring up at Illya with a look of contempt. 

“Could this dog be any more… German?” Illya quietly asks, carefully reaching out to attempt to pet him under the chin.

Gaby cannot hold the smile from her face so instead she turns her attention toward Solo as he stands with a smirk, hands in his pockets. She perches on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. 

“Thank you." 

The sounds of Illya jumping back and hitting the coffee table, mingled with Marzipan barking and his own loud, Russian, cursing breaks apart the kind moment. 

“He bit me!” Illya exclaims, holding onto his hand and glaring at the dog in front of him. Marzipan trots over to Gaby and stands on his hind legs, begging to be picked up. Gaby obliges and holds the dog close to her again, a warm smile on her face.

“You probably deserved it.”

 


End file.
